Story starter challenge – Cinema #hwdp

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The stub is split as you begin your retreat

Your world left outside as you seek to find seats

Others surround you in this collaborative quest

An escape from one’s life with all of its tests

You’ve heard of this place with its gateways to amaze

And it’s artists within who invite you to their charade

The food for your journey feels synonymous with this time

Exploded ears bucketed never tasted so sublime

Curtains pull back tingling your reactions

The suspense of the debut grows with each attraction

It’s arrived in your sight as the lights are dimmed slowly

A showtime of wonder that unites all from loved to the lonely

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Inspired by the Haunted Wordsmith’s Story starter challenge prompt – “The lights dimmed slowly.”

Genre Writing Challenge #2~Coachman’s Abscence

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Malcolm the butler didn’t mind taking over carriage duties once again for this evening, it meant that he got to leave his dull manor job for yet another night out. Normally, this was Phillips the coachman’s job to do but, he had recently abandoned his duties. It had been days since anyone had seen or heard from the man. The horses slowly trotted   down the cobblestone bridge as Malcolm guided them as best as he could being merely a beginner at this. He breathed in the night air, enjoying its freedom away from the stuffiness of Kensington mansion. Darkness surrounded the carriage as it proceeded away from the estate grounds and unto the long country roads towards town. Only the silence of an empty night could be heard under the sound of clopping hooves and rickety wheels.  Malcolm kept his eyes focused on the dirt road ahead of him when he saw something off on the side.  It was a man, waving his arms for Malcolm to stop the carriage.  Malcom pulled up on the reins, bringing the horses to a complete stop.

“Phillips, is that you?”  Malcolm said as he recognized the man to be the missing coachman.  He looked perfectly healthy and dressed ready to come back to work.

“Malcolm! My dear fellow, yes it is me, Phillips. Might I get ride from you back to the manor? It’s quite cold out here and I’ve been lost out here for some time”

“Of course, of COURSE! We’ve all been quite worried about you. Climb aboard, now”

Phillips climbed up the side of the carriage and sat next to Malcolm, who proceeded to motion the horses to get moving again.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to see you, Phillips. Good to see you’re safe, at least” Malcolm’s breath hit the cold air with a puff of frost.

“I’m glad to see you too, Malcolm” Phillips said, as he turned to look at where he was sitting. “There is just one problem”

Malcolm looked over at him away from the road, with a confused look.

“See….you’re sitting in the wrong seat. That’s MY SPOT”.

As Phillips finished his thought, he curled back his lips and lunged towards Malcolm. It didn’t take long for him to plunge his bite into the open neck of Malcolm and drain him dead. The horses stopped moving as Malcolm’s grip reflexively pulled on the reins in his now lifeless clutches.

Written for the Genre Writing Challenge #2 and the Story Starter Challenge prompt.

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Story Starter Challenge #8 ~The Cheetos Clue #daily-prompt #story-starter-challenge #themagicshop

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The Bounty hunting couple of ‘Scratch and Crush’ had apparently missed their latest target as Victor Morrison’s apartment appeared to have been vacated.  They had been on the trail of Morrison for over a week now, after he skipped out on his latest bail hearing for assault and drug possession. Natalie ‘Scratch’ Simpson and Dominic ‘Crush’ Carlone had been hired to hunt down Mr. Morrison as their next target . The couple had been in this business for well over twelve years now with their business cards saying

“CATCHING CROOKS FOR CASH”

The chemistry they shared together was often electric but never romantic. It was one of mutual respect and a fearless determination to put away the bad guys.

“Shit, he ain’t here” Scratch said begrudgingly as she walked into the bedroom with her nine millimeter drawn in front of her.

Crush stood in the living room listening to her.  She unfortunately maybe right. They had both checked every room in the apartment and all the closets with no sign of Victor Morrison to be found anywhere.

“This place is the biggest dumping ground I’ve ever seen”  Crush yelled back at Scratch. He wasn’t exaggerating either. The apartment was filled throughout all of its interior with piles of dirty clothes, shoulder-high stacks of magazines and giant clear garbage bags filled with recyclables.

Scratch walked back into the living room, shaking her head.

“Damn. They said he was like a hoarder,” she looked down at multiple empty bags of chips and snacks on the floor, “And he liked his junk food.”

Both of them stood there a minute feeling discouraged. They were good at their jobs, having never lost a bounty until now.

Crush holstered his gun. “Come on. Lets get outta here” he said to his partner as they both headed to the front door.

As Crush began to turn the door handle, Scratch stopped walking and turned around to look back into the apartment with a look of curiosity.

“You know”…She began to walk towards pile of clothes on the floor. ” I smell Cheetos.”

“Yeah..So?” Crush replied back as started to follow her in. “The guy ate crap. Whaddya expect?”

“Yeah…Maybe..” Scratch held up her revolver in front of her as she got closer to pile of clothes, that seemed to be shaking. “But, all those bags of chips and not one of them being a damn Cheetos bag.  ISN’T THAT RIGHT, MR. MORRISON?”

She leans over the pile and pulls some clothes off the top.

Laying there surrounded by various shirts and pants, with an open bag of Cheetos, was Victor Morrison. His now disappointed face was covered in orange crumbs and swallowing  what ever incriminating Cheetos he had stuffed in his mouth.

 

Inspired by the Haunted Wordsmith’s- Story Starter Challenge #8- “I smell Cheetos”

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Story Starter Challenge #2~The Captive

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“Thank you, but I don’t think I can do that” Brian Phillips whispered at his captor. He had already suffered enough torture and he refused to give in to their latest demand.

“Ok, well then you leave me no choice” Monica said as she pressed the barrel of her revolver Brian’s head. He knew that despite his total aversion to what was being asked of him, he would eventually do exactly what Monica requested. At of the corner of his eyes, he could see Monica’s deep blue eyes staring directly at him, through strands of blond hair. He loved her, no matter what she threatened him with. Even after all her acts of emasculation upon him, Brian still would do anything to please her. Gun or no gun. Was it a psychological flaw within his character to just surrender his manhood or did he just desperately needed to be loved?

This wasn’t the time for self-analysis. Brian could sense that Monica was getting anxious and he simply needed to do what she asked. He slowly reaches down towards the coffee table in front of him, grabs one of the old lipsticks that was given to Monica and takes off the cap. As he finishes putting on a small smear of lipstick thus completing his face, Monica pulls the trigger. A dozen clear bubbles come floating out into the air as his daughter giggles her six year old laugh.

Brian sat there and smiled his silly-looking smeared lips. The embarrassment of “Daddy gets a makeover” was done for today. Monica would dream up some other wonderful thing for him to be a part of after this was one was over. He would do it all, because that’s what made her happy. To him, that was all the reason in the world that he needed for being “tortured”.

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Written for The Haunted Wordsmith’s -Story Starter Challenge #2